As we buy smaller and more compact camera bags to guarantee our entire camera kits make it on our flights as carry-ons, one has to wonder if we are affording enough padding and protection for these very valuable and sensitive items. Quite often I find it impossible to find  specific smaller bags for my camera bodies and lenses. That is until I discovered the Domke F34  protective wrap. As it is basically a padded square with four velcro corners, you can mold and fold them to fit almost any expensive or delicate photography item. It comes in 3 different sizes and a variety of colors.

I was introduced to the item by the Ken down at Bear Images as we were looking for a solution to protect my Broncolor A2R pack charger. I found I could use the same wrap to secure a Leica M9 or 24mm ASPH Summilux lens. You won’t find me leaving home without it.

Sunday, Nov. 7, 2010

Once again the self-elected military rulers of Burma put on a show for the people by having a “Democratic Election”. The first in 20 years. The choices; one despicable military general or another even more despicable military general. The foreign press was not allowed into the country and the ruling junta was accused of shutting down internet service throughout the last couple of days. Early reports state that turnout at the polls was lackluster at best as the people went to their local pagodas and socialized instead. If anything good is to come of this it is that nobel laureate Aung San Suu Kyi’s house arrest is supposed to end next Saturday, Nov. 13. That is, if the military rulers keep their word. We’ve seen that before.

Today I thought posting some environmental portraits of the lovely people I connected with would be appropriate, a tribute to the Burmese people that I have been blessed enough to laugh, touch and smile with over the last couple of years. My heart goes out to you….

(Clicking on the images below will bring up a larger image. The same goes throughout my Photoblog)

(June, 2008)

I had an ominous feeling that walking straight through the front gates of Burma might not be as simple as portrayed by the Thai Passport Agency I contacted over the phone when sitting comfortably 8,000 miles away in San Francisco just over a week ago.  After returning to my room, I immediately called the Agency and asked for the owner/manager Ms Didi. I was immediately connected and she sounded slightly saddened as she repeated the news I had just received downstairs in the Lobby.

“Any suggestions?”, I asked while sitting on my fluffy down comforter and staring at a copy of the “Bangkok Post” lying near my feet.  “Well you might want to try up North near the city of Chiang Rai. There you can walk across the border into the Burmese city of Tachilek. I think Mae Sot to the west is closer to where you want to be, but might be a little too dangerous right now.”

“I’m in your hands”, I responded.

Within an hour Ms Didi had sent me an itinerary with a one-way airline ticket to Chiang Rai. She had taken the liberty of booking me two nights at a hotel she felt I would find “very comfortable”. The flight didn’t leave until the next morning. That would give me some time to run around Bangkok for the next  couple of hours and do some shooting in the infernal hear and humidity. Note to self–hydrate baby hydrate….

The flight to Chiang Rai International Airport was uneventful. By the large number of military transports and helicopters parked on the side of the runway, I assumed this must be a hub for the Royal Thai Air Force. Probably due to the large number of unmanned military aircraft impeding our path to the terminal via the taxiway, the pilot of our Airbus came to a stop and then made a low speed u-turn whereupon he taxied right down the middle of the runway we just landed on. God I hope the tower crew isn’t out to lunch!

The fairly short cab ride to the hotel from the airport was a welcome respite to the bedlam that was Bangkok. The driver took me through acres of pineapple and tea farms. No one seemed to be in any rush, I gazed out at the lush green landscapes,  minute mountain ranges and inhaled the fresh air.

Upon arrival at  the Legend Hotel Chiang Rai, I was greeted by two bellman who rustled my bags onto a trolley, minus my camera bag—that always stays with me. As they escorted me down the long teak entryway to the open design of the Lobby and Reception Desk, I was amazed at the panorama that surrounded us. The hotel was built directly on the eastern bank of the Mae Kok River and I was engulfed by densely vegetated rolling hills. If someone had pushed a Mai Tai into my hand with parasol and pineapple spear, I’d swear I was in Maui.

My studio room was gorgeous, overlooking a small garden and infinity pool with fountains. A mosquito net encircled my bed  and cascaded over my plush mattress and down filled pillows. I unpacked my gear, swung my Leica M8 around my back and headed immediately back to the Lobby. Greeting the lovely Thai receptionist adorned in  traditional Thai costume once again, I asked for her advice on how to get to the Burmese border. She said unfortunately all the guides had been booked that day and were already in the field with other guests. “How would tomorrow morning be?”  ”Fine”, I murmured and she jotted my name into her ledger.

I then inquired about getting into town and any recommendations for a traditional northern Thai lunch as I was starved. She handed me a hotel card written in Thai and explained this is so I could hand it to a driver when I wished to return. She then pointed in the distance to the hotel gate at a couple of tuk tuks and asked if I wouldn’t mind if she escorted me out so that she could translate the name of the restaurant, a place called C&C, to the driver. I grinned and have to say, felt a little like Yul Brynner  (also a Leica shooter) in “The King and I”, as we strolled past the fountains and Thai architecture resembling ancient times.

What a pleasure to get out of the tuk tuk at the restaurant and be greeted by these nice young ladies. It was only then I learned what the Cs in “C&C”  stood for. “Cabbage and Condoms”! Sometimes you can’t make this stuff up…..

(To be continued…)

Bangkok, Thailand  (July, 2010)

This time things went so much smoother at the Burmese Embassy. First, let me step back about two years earlier.

In May of 2008 cyclone Nargis slammed into the country of Burma killing tens of thousands of people and affecting at least a hundred thousand more (in early reports). As the weeks rolled by, these numbers increased exponentially.

With some idle  time  on my hands and having been promised a Burmese Visa within three days upon  my arrival in Thailand, I was off to bustling Bangkok. My DEET, Malarone, Power Bars and water purification tablets were crammed into my carry-on alongside my reliable Leica M8 Digital Rangefinder camera and Summilux lenses.

Still a bit jet lagged from my late night arrival at my hotel the day before, my fruitless attempts at slumber were interrupted by the incessant ringing of my room phone. It was the concierge announcing that I had a visitor at the front desk. The red LED of the alarm clock burned 9:00 am into my retinas. Throwing on a ” Club Femme Nu” t-shirt (don’t ask) and Adidas track pants, I hustled into the elevator and descended to the Lobby twenty-five floors below.

At the front desk I was greeted by a Thai teenage messenger who with the help of the concierge acting as a translator, asked for my passport, two passport sized head-shots and asked me to fill out two Visa applications. I did and handed everything over to him. His white uniform with gold epaulettes reminded me of Captain Stubing from the “Love Boat”.  We bowed to each other clasping our hands in front of our faces and then I escorted him out of the air-conditioned Lobby and into the sweaty, high-pitched squeal of the Bangkok streets. “Jesus, it’s Africa hot!”, I remember thinking to myself. He sped off on a motor-bike that sounded like a mosquito.

I re-entered my room at the Sheraton Royal Orchid Hotel and stared out the window at what seemed to be an old-style junk with triangular sail running from an ocean freighter floating down the brown murky discharge of the Chao Phraya River. “Only in Thailand”, I murmured to myself.

The room phone rang again, this time releasing me from a an intense hypnotic state that comes with my first deep sleep after a long transcontinental flight. “Where am I?”, were my first thoughts. “12:15 pm” was beaming from the alarm clock beside my bed. It was the concierge informing me that I had a guest. I couldn’t imagine who it would be as  almost no one knew I was in Thailand and those that did lived in the US.

After rolling out of bed out and grabbing my plastic laminated key card, I paced down the hallway towards the elevator and passed a mirror. “Shit, I look like Marty Sheen in his opening scene from Apocalypse Now”, I thought, making my way to the elevator. In the lobby I was surprised to find the same messenger greeting me in the formal and civilized Thai way by clasping his hands to his nose and bowing, then passing my passport back to me (which I had just entrusted to him a few hours before). That was quick!

The concierge informed me that he (the messenger) regretted to inform me that my Visa application had been denied by the Burmese consulate. “And the reason why?”, I groggily replied. A long conversation ensued between the two in Thai. The concierge turned to me, “He suspects that they (the Burmese militia) feel that you applied to stay in Rangoon a little longer than they found satisfactory”.

“But it’s the only city that they are allowing foreigners to travel right now!”

Turning towards the messenger, the concierge reiterated my statement in Thai. They both turned towards me and shrugged apologetically. I thanked them both for their time and gave them each a few baht before retiring back to my room on the twenty-fifth floor.

Time for Plan B!

(to be continued…….)